


If I Woke Up Next to You

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Home is Where the Heart Is [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anesthesia, Domestic Fluff, Drugged up Pete, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, M/M, Mention of Surgery, Temporary Amnesia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief mention of insecurities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: While Patrick’s heart sang at the thought of those colorfully sticky notes, even the one from this morning that was stuck onto the bathroom mirror tucked neatly into his pocket that read‘everythings gonna be okay’in Pete’s ever messy writing, Patrick still couldn’t fathom how a man who goes above and out of his way to take care of him, could be so damn neglectful when it comes to his own health.----Pete has his wisdom teeth extracted, and when he wakes up from anesthesia, he's so out of it falls in love with Patrick all over again





	If I Woke Up Next to You

**Author's Note:**

> Un-edited! All grammatical errors are mine!

“For Wentz.”

Patrick’s head jolted up from the screen of his phone with lightening speed as soon as the name rang through the somewhat empty, quiet, sterile hall, the smell of antiseptic, latex, and _clean_ making it nearly unbearable for the singer, even if he was only in the room for half an hour.

After all, who liked waiting in the waiting room of hospital while your boyfriend was getting some fairly extensive oral surgery.

Patrick wish it had not escalated to this point, but Pete was never really to fully care for himself when he was always keeping an watchful and loving eye on Patrick, always gently reminding the blonde in his own little ways, with simple texts throughout the day, sticky notes placed over various and rather creative places throughout their house, in the car, in the bus, or anywhere else Pete could think of.

_‘don’t forget 2 grab something to eat b4 u leave’_

_‘Stop and breathe, babe, u can do this’_

_‘a pill a day keeps the shakes away’_

_‘you’re so beautiful’_

_‘love u til my last breath’_

_‘ur so fucking amazing, im so proud of u’_

And while Patrick’s heart sang at the thought of those colorfully sticky notes, even the one from this morning that was stuck onto the bathroom mirror tucked neatly into his pocket that read _‘everythings gonna be okay’_ in Pete’s ever messy writing, Patrick still couldn’t fathom how a man who goes above and out of his way to take care of him, could be so damn neglectful when it comes to his own health.

 It had started off as headaches, a bursting throb of pain that the leave Pete whimpering in pain when the constant pressure in his skull was becoming too much to handle, so much so that when it did hit, Pete was bed ridden would carefully take a rather strong prescription of Tylenol in order to help alleviate the discomfort, if only for a while, then came the swelling of his gums and then the terrifying moments of sharp, electric like pain shooting from behind his right ear to the stop of his head. The bassist had always reassured Patrick that he would call the dentist for an early appointment, his cheeks slightly puffy, even as Pete cradled a bag of frozen peas to his skin, but Patrick was certain he never did, until the first ‘shock’ happened.

 It had happened during practice, he, Andy, Joe, and Pete working out the kinks of a song they were planning on performing for tour when Pete suddenly jerked and stopped playing, his hand flying to the spot behind his ear as he winced doubling over as he tried to regain himself. Pete had described it as _“an electric shock going from behind my ear to the top of my head….like seriously, it hurts like a bitch!”_

 After about a week of convincing and eventual threats of “ _If you don’t make a damn appointment with the dentist, I’m cutting off sex for a month, and I don’t give a shit if you get blue balls…I don’t care if your dick’s gonna get lonely, unless you go to the fucking dentist, it’s only friend is going to be your hand!”_ Apparently, that had been he deciding factor that led Pete to _finally_ called the dentist, his boyfriend sitting right across from him at the kitchen table, arms crossed and eyes narrowed with steal.

 The culprit for all of Pete’s aggravating pain and terrifying shock, after one set of x-rays and a consultation with an oral and maxillofacial surgeon, were his wisdom teeth. As it turned out, Pete never had them removed.

 He had known he still had them, however never fully experienced any discomfort with them in the past, until now. The oral and maxillofacial surgeon informed them that while the typical age of wisdom teeth to emerge is typically between 17 and 25, it was common for adult to get them later due to not having any discomfort. From the x-rays, three of Pete’s four wisdom teeth were classified as _Soft-Tissue Vertical Impaction_ s, meaning that they had grown out normally, which wasn’t causing Pete much pain, however the lower right tooth was considered _Partial-Bony Mesial Impaction_ of the, meaning, as the doctor put it simply, it was growing out in a angle and hadn’t emerged completely, and it was also hitting a nerve, which was causing the electric shocks Pete had been feeling.

 Surgery had been the only option and the appointment had been set up as soon as possible, which turned out to be four days later. Paperwork was filled out, procedures explained, medications listed, and typical pre-op consultations were done, and Pete’s and Patrick’s nerves were a little on edge.

 The morning of the surgery, they both woke on an empty stomach, Pete following the doctor’s orders to a tee and not eating anything after 10pm in preparation of his 9am surgery, while Patrick simply _couldn't_ eat due to nerves. They checked into the hospital and were lead to a clean and sterile room, a dentist chair sitting right in the middle. It look very much like the dentist office, but with a more surgical feel. The surgeon they had talked to before, Dr. Naomi Schultz, came in with her nurse and calmly explained what was going on and how long it was going to take— 45 minutes tops.

 Patrick had seen the nerves in Pete’s eyes when they mentioned starting the anesthesia, just as the singer had noticed it when they had told him of surgery. Pete had spent all this time comforting Patrick, reassuring him that he would be find, when in reality the bassist was just as worried, if not more so.  The surgeon excused herself and she was going to scrub in, and Patrick was kindly asked to wait in the waiting room. With a kiss and a firm “ _I_ _love you, I’ll be here when you wake up”_ , he pulled away to look at Pete, his heart breaking at the pooling anxiety-induced tears wetting Pete’s whiskey colored eyes. _“Just like you wrote me,”_ Patrick has whispered, thankful the nurse was giving him time to calm his boyfriend, _“It’s going to be okay.”_

 Pete and nodded, and with one last press of his lips, Patrick exited the room, taking a seat in a somewhat comfortable chair (as comfortable as one could be in a hospital, he would add) as he took out his phone, his nerves gnawing at him for the whole duration of the procedure.

 True to the doctor’s word, the procedure only last 35 minutes before he heard Pete’s name being called. He looked from his phone and saw the Dr. Schultz, who motioned for Patrick to follow her back into the room.

 “He did really well, we gave him general anesthesia, however we did have to give him some time to relax and calm, his anxiety spiked somewhat when you left, but he handled it well. Surgery was successful and we removed all of the wisdom teeth with little trauma to the sites…” The doctor continues to explain what to expect post-surgery, as well as how to change Pete’s dressings for his gums, as well as rather lengthy list of _dos and don’ts_ when in recovering, such as no sucking on straws (Patrick’s mind tried not to wander when it came to _sucking_ , but failed), no hard foods for at least a week or until pain subsides, along with prescribing a handful of medication for the time being: one antibiotic, one painkiller, and one for nausea.

 “His stitches will dissolve and fall of over the course of the week or two, if he continues to have any pain or excessive bleeding after five days, call me and I’ll check him. Do you have any questions?”

 Patrick nodded, looking from the folder of all the information she had given him, along with a rather thick stack of soft-cotton gauze. “Um, yeah, is there any way you can fax the prescriptions to our pharmacy? Just so I can pick them up on the way…and he’s out of commission for two weeks?”

 The doctor smiled as she clarified. “Of course, I’ll have our clerks do that right away. And yes, two weeks is best, just so that he recovers completely. He’s more than welcomed to continue with his regular medication regiment, but for the next two weeks, he needs to take the antibiotics, as in he needs to finish them all. The painkillers are as needed along with the anti-nausea.”

 The blonde nodded as he walked into the room following the doctor, Pete reclined fully back in the chair, blissfully gassed out, but his cheeks looked swollen and puffy, a small bit of white gauze visible from his slightly opened mouth.

 “He’s slowly coming in and out of the anesthesia, I want to give him at least 15 to 30 minutes for him to be semi-conscious. He might be a little disoriented, but we’ll help him into your car. We’ll give him a low-dose painkiller to hold him over until you get the prescriptions”.

 Patrick thanked the doctor as she excused herself and made his way to sit over by Pete, who was twitching and turning slightly from time to time. It was maybe ten minutes later, as Patrick was running his fingers through his boyfriend's dark hair,, when Pete’s face scrunched up in pain, an low, muffled, whimpering moan, escaping him.

 “Ow….” Without even opening his eyes, Pete’s hands slowly tried to make their way up to his face, however Patrick carefully curled his hands around Pete’s own, stopping them with a gentle touch. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t do that,” he soothed gently, his voice calm and just above a whisper.

 Pete’s eyes carefully opened, squinting at the bright light of the room, before turning to look at Patrick, a confused haze clouding warm, hazel-brown. He watched Patrick, drowsily, lost in a sea of anesthesia, medication, and pain. “How are you feeling?”

 Pete just looks on with fogged over eyes colored in confusion, but also going wide with wonder. “Did the doctor send you?” he asks slowly, his words somewhat slurred. Patrick raises a fine eyebrow, giving his boyfriend a rather incredulous look, until he remembered that the doctor said Pete would be disoriented due to the anesthesia. “Um…” Patrick was about to say something until Pete blurted out nonsensically,“Because wow…you’re like…the prettiest dude I’ve ever seen…”

 Okay, the anesthesia did  _a number_ on Pete. Patrick couldn’t help the snort that escaped him at Pete’s words, because honestly, a drugged up Pete, who was so out of it he did even know who Patrick is right now, is actually _hitting on him_.

 “Are you a model, because you’re fucking gorgeous,” Pete said, mesmerized, eyes solely on Patrick, only this time, the blonde rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips. It wasn’t the first time Pete had mentioned it, but hearing the older man say it with such…awe and certainly, especially in his doped out state of mind, was, well….rather endearing.

 “No,” Patrick laughed. “I’m not a model.”

 “You should totally be one…I have friends, I can make it happened…” he said rather confidently. “The world’s gotta see you, you’re too hot to not be seen…What’s your name?”

 “My name’s Patrick,” he said calmly, a smile on his face, his voice holding more patience that he had ever had with Pete, as he carded his fingers through Pete’s hair. “And I’m your boyfriend.”

 Pete’s eyebrows shot up nearly disappearing into his hairline.  “You’re _MY_ boyfriend…. _holy shit_ ….badass…I hit the _fucking_ _jackpot!_ ” He exclaimed weakly, a wide grin coming over his features, which was quickly turned into a grimace due to pain. “Oww….fuck shit….ow….” Patrick couldn’t help but dissolve more into laughter.

 “Take it easy Pete, you’re just waking up for your surgery,” the singer giggled. Normally, he would have rolled his eyes and maybe smacked Pete’s arm, but this, it was almost like it was Pete falling in love with him all over again, except this time, he wasn’t dancing around his feels are weaving them into lyrics that Patrick would turn into song for all their fans— This was Pete being…well, Pete high on a concoction of painkillers and general anesthesia, but more so, this was Pete without no filter, not guard, no walls up trying to hid away his insecurities and fears. It was innocent, at the same token; it was true and 100% Pete Wentz.

 And if Patrick didn’t think he could fall more in love with this idiot, well he was wrong.

 “Man….this is awesome, babe…” Pete winces in pain turning away from Patrick before locking eyes with him once more. “Do I call you babe? How long have we been together?”

 “You call me a variety of different pet names, many of which I don't approve of," Patrick started, "but yes, 'babe' is one of them. And officially? We've been together about six years. It would have been longer if we had gotten our heads out of our asses sooner,” he explained gently to an awestruck Pete.

 “Wow…I’m sorry if I was an ass, but damn, you’re like, _perfect_.” Pete stared for a little longer, something in his eyes churning and brewing before reaching out a shaky hand to touch one of Patrick’s cheeks. Patrick automatically took it, bringing Pete’s warm hand and placing it on his cheek, leaning into the older man’s touch as he smiled, but Pete didn’t return it this time. “Do I treat you okay?” Pete asked, softly, unsure. “Am I a good boyfriend?” he asks, his voice wavering.

 It was Patrick’s turn for his eyes to widen; did Pete think…he wasn’t good enough? It’s a conversation he’s had with Pete before; when they were both hammered out of their minds the night Save Rock and Roll was released. They had been dating for about two years then, an in his drunken state, laying on the floor with his limbs thrown every which way, Pete had asked Patrick casually, as if asking about the weather. “ _Am I a good boyfriend to you?_ ” Patrick, was more than a little buzzed and fucking around on the piano playing drunken nonsense looked down at Pete, fingers stopping their dancing along ivory keys.

 _ **"** Of course you are, you like take care of me and stuff, like make sure I don’t go all self-destructive again, telling me how pretty I am, when I’m not,” _Pete throws in an argument of   _Because you are_ , but Patrick only continues on. “ _You’re like the bestest dude. And I love you for it.And yes, i used the words bestest, sue me."_

The following morning, Pete clearly hadn’t recalled the conversation when Patrick had brought it up, but the blonde had kissed him firmly with hands pulling at the bassist’s shirt, tugging it off as his moved to kiss along with inked necklace of thorns that adorned his skin, muttering reassurances against Pete’s skin.

He’s brought back from his thoughts at the feel of a thumb softly stroking his cheek, the warmth of Pete’s hand against his palm grounding him. For as long as he an remember, even before the band was actually a band, Pete was always the one watching out for him, making sure he never got into too much trouble, never got hurt at shows, always took care of himself, and so on a so forth, and, if anything, it just intensified more when they came together during the hiatus, after the Soul Punk fiasco, that he’s rather not talk about, but that Pete always reassured him was amazing.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the world, Pete,” he reassured, tucking his head down to kiss the palm of Pete’s hand, watching as Pete’s eyes softened. “You take such good care of me, now let me do the same for you.” Pete only nodded, his eyes drifting shut once more just as the nurse came in to check. Patrick catching her eye before he turned back to Pete. “Just go back to sleep, babe, we’ll be home before you know it.”

The nurse simply smiled, as Patrick tucked Pete’s hand back into his lap, caressing his fingers against the rough stubble of his cheek as Pete’s breath evened out. He’s sure once Pete wakes up the next time, he’ll remember Patrick but completely forget this whole conversation, but at least it could be something to tease him with in the future. But for now, he lets the nurse bring in a wheel chair, and gently wake a barely conscious Pete and maneuver him into the chair while asking Patrick to bring his car out to the back door to they can help him in. The blond nods and just plants a kiss on Pete’s forehead, papers and gauze in his hand as he leaves the room to fetch his car.

As he rounds his car to the side of the building, Patrick couldn’t help the warmth that filled his chest at the conversation they just had. If anything Pete, in all his adorable stupidity and endearing idiotic tendencies, had his heart was always in the right place; he was always watching out for him, and now its Patrick time to return the favor.

And Patrick will always be there to do so.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of fluff to between updates! I hope you all enjoyed <3


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